The Days of Guinevere
by constantine's lover
Summary: Here follows the tale of the legend of King Arthur and his knights of the table round. The tale of Guinevere, a Welsh princess, chosen to be the High King's bride, who fell in love with Lancelot, the highest knight of the Round Table...
1. Default Chapter

**To the reader: This story is largely based on Sir Thomas Malory's "Le Morte D'arthur," and Chretein De Troyes' Arthurian tales and not on the horribly inaccurate so-called "King Arthur" movie. This is a fiction that has been influenced by hundreds of years of legends, written by those who either lived during the period of Arthur Pendragon, or who were largely influenced by their events.**

The characters that you will read about in this fiction are heavily based upon those you will find in Nancy McKenzie's brilliant renditions of Arthurian legends, the "Queen of Camelot" and the "Grail Prince." These are two lovely novels that have greatly influenced and touched my life. If any of you find the desire to ascertain a better understanding of Arthurian myth and legend, I highly recommend these as sources of excellence.  
And now without further adieu, I give you my story.

**Prologue**

**"Guinevere," came his soft voice in the darkness, "Gwen, wake up." His gentle hands shook her and she was roused out of her dream.**

**Upon seeing his face, Guinevere, Queen of Camelot, lunged into her husband's arms. "Oh, Arthur," she breathed, "it was dreadful! I have never been so aggrieved by a dream before." She began to shake uncontrollably, and Arthur pulled her closer to him.**

"**It was only a night-mare. You are safe now. Tell me, my love, what was the dream about?"**

"**God, it was horrible. You had…" here she broke down into sobs, and the King had to listen hard to decipher her words. "You had died. The kingdom was in turmoil. Everyone was in a panic, the Saxons were invading, and there was no one here to protect us. Mordred had led an army into Camelot and he was going to force me to marry him! And then, in Less Britain, Elaine, she…she killed Lancelot! Without him restraining her, and you gone, she came to Camelot and when I was sleeping she entered my chamber. She had a knife her hand, and she was laughing as she held it aloft. She said 'I have waited my whole life for this Guinevere: The day I kill the Great Whore of Britain.' She lunged at me and that is when I awoke."**

"**Ah, my little Gwen, dreams can be disturbing, but they are only our anxieties manifested into thoughts that haunt us in the night. It is over, and Britain is well and whole, and Lancelot is capable of taking care of himself. I shall not die any time soon, that you can be sure of. Merlyn believes my death to be many years from now."**

"**But still, I never remember being more frightened in all my life."**

"**Not even when you were kidnapped by Maelgon?"**

"**But you were alive, and I knew that there was hope."**

"**Guinevere, you amaze me. In harsh circumstances that life brings our way, you always stand tall with courage. But in something that is not real, such as a dream, you become terrified. In life you face things with bravery, but in the circumstances of the mind, you find your weakness. That is something that is coveted among men: to face life with courage, but to fear the things of the imagination."**

"**Arthur, I do not deserve your praise."**

**In the darkness, Arthur's kiss overpowered her, and they were swept away by their great love for one another.**

**Chapter I**

_**The Bitter Queen **_

**The next day, in Less Britain, Elaine, Queen of Lanascol and former princess of Gwynedd, sat brooding by a window. Outside the heat was sweltering, but indoors it was even more unbearable. Perspiration glistened on the queen's face and neck. Her beautiful honey hair that fell abundantly was damp with sweat, and the rose water did little to overpower it. She fanned herself lazily, but not only to cool herself, but to dry the tears that glistened in her eyes. **

**Down below, her beloved son, Galahad, was practicing with the sword. His already powerful body moved gracefully with the sword, appearing as though he were dancing and not defending himself. He was only five and he was the pride and joy of her life. But the sight of him stung her heart. He was too much like his father: Lancelot.**

**Lancelot she despised more than anyone on earth, save her cousin, Guinevere, who she damned to hell. She hated both of them with a passion that was uncontrollable and unpredictable. There was close to nothing that she wouldn't do to assure their eternal suffering and misery. Why did she hate them so? Because they had ruined her life, and took from her what rightfully belonged to her: happiness.**

**Elaine loved King Arthur. She had loved him since she could remember, whereas Guinevere, when she was a child and knew nothing of him, could care less about the King. But then, one day, Fate turned against Elaine, and King Arthur asked for Guinevere's hand in marriage, Guinevere, the girl who cared nothing for the King. It was not fair! Elaine was the one who had loved Arthur from childhood. It was she who had worshiped him beyond sense, and admired him without even knowing him. Hers was a blind love, one that could not be tamed or swayed, no matter what he did. But yet it was Guinevere who was chosen by the High King, and not herself. **

**Why, because Guinevere was beautiful and men admired her because of her beauty. People called her the soul of goodness, and tales were told about her inward and outward beauty and grace. Fate had taken a liking to her and it seemed to detest Elaine. Nothing ever happened in her favor. She was the one that loved the King. She should be the one that should have been chosen as the King's wife. Why had she been ignored? What had she done that the King did not choose her? Surely she was just as good as her cousin. **

**Then it happened. Guinevere and Lancelot fell in love. Some people said that it was written in the stars and therefore inevitable. Others said that there was nothing that could be done to prevent it or stop it, but Elaine thought otherwise. She did not understand that the love Guinevere and Lancelot bore one anther was also love for the King. Without Arthur, there would not have been that passionate love between them. Under different circumstances, they perhaps would have still loved one another, but it was because of Arthur there ardent love existed.**

**(One might ask why, then, did Elaine marry Lancelot if she hated him so? It was done out of spite towards Guinevere. Elaine took advantage of Lancelot's weakness: his love and passion for Guinevere; and she did so in such a way so that his honor was involved.Therefore he had no choice but to marry her. But all shall be revealed in due time.) **

**Guinevere had been chosen by the High King and how did she repay the favor? By falling in love with that broken nose Lancelot! The powerful love that Guinevere bore for Lancelot should have been born for the King. It was the same love that Elaine bore for Arthur. Elaine should have been the one chosen for Arthur. Guinevere was not worthy of the King, not if she loved another. King Arthur deserved more.**

**And now that Guinevere was married to Arthur, they found that she was barren and could bear him no heirs, and yet he still kept her. That was absurd! He should have done away with her for it was unfair for him. To deny the King heirs to the throne, just because Guinevere liked being High Queen was selfish and un-noble.**

**But she never stopped to think. If Arthur deserved more, wouldn't he put aside the Queen, even if she was selfish? If he truly thought he deserved more, Guinevere's selfishness would not stop him from doing what he thought was just and right. The fact of the matter was this: Arthur loved Guinevere with a love so deep that nothing could come between it. But he did not love her because she was beautiful; he loved her because she was wise, noble, and brave. She was a lady, if there ever was one. She put the needs of others before herself, and she always did what was in the best interest of Britain. She too loved Arthur more than words could ever express, and although she loved Lancelot, it was nothing like the love she bore for the King.**

**Sometimes one cannot help who one loves; such is the case of Lancelot and Guinevere. They did not choose to love one another, it happened without their consent for it was fated to be. But however strong their love for one another was, they never betrayed their King. They were loyal to Arthur for all of their days, never betraying or soiling his name. Lips would flap and stories would roam the country and beyond, but in truth, they never betrayed the King. They loved each other, this is true, but it was controlled and bound by honor for Arthur. **

**This Elaine could never understand. She could not comprehend the fact that someone could love another without betrayal. This, her narrow mind could not take in for it was too shallow and logical. To her it was not possible for someone to be married to the King and yet love another from a distance. And so, because she was ignorant, she condemned Lancelot and Guinevere, just as so many others did along with her.**

**But those closest to Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere knew that they were honorable. The companions knew that Guinevere loved Arthur more than she loved Lancelot or her own life. It was a known fact at the castle. Arthur and Guinevere openly loved and adored one another. One would have to be blind to not see it. Their love was more than just mindless attraction. They possessed for one another a deep respect, admiration, and understanding of each other. It is true that they were extremely attracted to one another, but their attraction went beyond appearance; they were attracted to each other's souls. **

**There have never been two people like Arthur and Guinevere. They were, perhaps, the embodiments of goodness, grace, nobility, honor, and mercy. They practiced justice as naturally as though they were breathing and their kindness was and is beyond compare. Gone are those that even begin to resemble such qualities for the world is an evil place where characteristics of goodness are rarely practiced.**

**But Elaine was blinded by jealousy and bitterness towards Guinevere, and therefore she could not see what was right before her. Because of her undying hatred for the Queen, she would be forever a festering wound to those she lived with. Those that saw the truth tried to bring it to her attention, but she would listen to none of it, saying it was all the lies of deceitful snakes.**

**Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by Jenna, her maid servant. "My lady Queen, Sir Lancelot has just arrived from Britain."**

**Lady Elaine turned to stare at her maid servant. The ferocity in the queen's eyes made the young girl take a step back, for her eyes were livid with open hatred. And yet, something else was buried deep within that hatred. There was also sorrow more heart wrenching than even the most passionate of hatreds. Lady Elaine was hurt more than she was angry. She felt the world and Fate had done injustice to her, and she would forever shake her fist at the wind. "Go, tell him I will send for him at my leisure. _I_ am busy."**

**The eyes of the girl widened and her jaw dropped. Gripping the handle on the door for support she responded, "Oh, no my Lady Queen, I mean no disrespect, but I dare not say such things to the king! He would have my life!"**

"**I doubt that. He wouldn't dare kill a woman, for fear of being labeled a spineless coward." Her gaze was cold and relentless and her voice was just as chilling. "Well, I don't lack the courage. I tell you as sure as I stand here that I will kill you if you don't deliver my message and quickly!"**

**The poor girl's eyes filled with tears and her knees began to shake in spite of herself. "Yes, my Lady Queen, it shall be done immediately!" With that the girl fled the room, shutting the door behind her.**

**Elaine slumped into a chair, her breathing came in gasps. In despair she buried her head in her hands and wept.**


	2. Lancelot

**Down in the courtyard, grooms and page boys scurried about; making haste for the king was coming home. In the distance was heard the thundering of cavalry men, and a trumpet blew, signaling the king's arrival. The great gates swung open and in came a hundred men with their king leading the way, riding his horse on only a blanket, no saddle. Banners with the Hawk of Lanascol were held high and the jingling of horse harnesses filled the air. Lancelot dismounted his horse in a graceful sweep, and a stable hand appeared, took the reigns, and led the great animal away. Another serving boy arrived with a bowl of cool water and towel so that the king might wash the dust off from his travel. "Thank you, Seph," his warm voice replied. **

"**How was your journey, my Lord King?" asked the boy.**

"**Very well, lad, thank you for inquiring. We made good time, better than I thought we would."**

"**And if My Lord does not mind me asking, how fairs the High King?"**

"**In perfect health, but he is anxious for war," answered Lancelot as he toweled his face.**

**They walked to the castle door, and Lancelot kicked the mud off his shoes before entering. "And his Lady Queen?" asked the boy timidly.**

**Suddenly Lancelot's eyes grew hard and his voice was cold, almost making the boy flinch. "She is well." And without another word, he entered the castle. Once inside and his eyes had adjusted, he approached his brother Galahantyn. "Brother," Lancelot greeted him with an embrace, "How have things faired in my absence?"**

"**Very well, Lancelot. It is good to have you back. You have been too long away."**

**Once again the king's eyes hardened, but immediately they were softened as he replied, "I have made my promise to Arthur. First I am his knight and servant, second I am a king and husband."**

"**I meant no disrespect-"**

"**I know you didn't, Galyn. Don't heed me, it has been a long journey and I am weary." With a sigh he rubbed a hand across his face, banishing ill thoughts to welcome a newer unpleasant one. "And how fairs my wife?"**

"**Oh, the same as when you left, although to be truthful, she was happier when you were gone."**

**Lancelot nodded sadly and spoke softly, "I know it well. Send for her. I wish to speak with her."**

"**Begging your pardon, my lords," came a small female voice from behind them.**

**The two men turned to find a young girl timidly shuffling her feet, keeping her eyes down-cast. "Forgive my rudeness at intruding, but the Lady Elaine has ordered me to dilever a message to Sir Lancelot." **

**Jenna glanced up into the face of Lancelot. His gentle and loving eyes were fiercely blue and they looked into her soul, stirring emotions she did not know existed. His chiseled features made him extremely attractive, and each time Jenna laid eyes on him, she still thought the stories about him did not do him justice. He was tall, lean, and muscular, and his tall stance projected authority. His powerful body loomed over her in an intimidating way, but his dark, wind blown hair fell into his eyes, softening his appearance. His lips were full, and a thin layer of stumble lingered on his cheeks and jaw line. Un-groomed, wind-blown, and dusty from travel, he still was the most handsome man alive, and Jenna went weak in the knees. For a moment her voice faltered, but still he waited patiently, those beautiful eyes of his staring gently at her. "My Lord King," she finally began, "Oh, my Lord, please forgive me." Trembling, she fell at his feet and lowered her head respectfully as she continued, "My Lady Queen demanded me to bring you this message. She says that she would send for you at her leisure, and that she is busy."**

**Jenna heard Sir Galyn suck in his breath, but Lancelot remained silent and motionless. When she dared to look up into his eyes, she found pity. He reached down and took her hand gently. He helped her up with the utmost care, treating her as if she was made of glass, and his touch stilled her trembling. Holding her gaze he answered, "You have no need to fear me, lass. You have only done what was bidden you, and it took courage. Thank you for delivering your message. I commend you."**

"**Thank you, Sir," and with a deep reverence, she left his presence.**

**After the girl's departure, Galyn sighed heavily. "I am sorry, Lance."**

**The king lifted a hand to silence his brother. "You needn't apologize or feel sympathy for me. I chose my fate, and it is my rightful reward." With that the king strode forward, his footsteps heavy with fatigue, and he disappeared through the doorway.**

"**God, grant him patience and strength."**

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**Elaine still sat, unmoving, her head in her hands, tears of grief staining her face. The door to her chamber opened, and in came Jenna. "My Lady Elaine, Sir Lancelot," she announced, and she then backed silently out of the room, but not before she offered Lancelot a look of sympathy.**

**At the maid servant's announcement, Elaine jumped to her feet, straightened her dress, and quickly wiped away the tears that discolored her face. In strode Lancelot, his presence like a beacon of light. Elaine could not help trembling before him, so great was his power. Even though her knees buckled beneath her, she stood straight, giving no indication that she was intimidated. Her gaze was fierce, betraying no emotion, and her face was as hard and unreadable as stone. Her body was straight and rigid. The only sign that spoke of her nervousness was her shaking hands and white knuckles that gripped the chair for support.**

**Lancelot had stopped at the door; his face was weary with travel, but his eyes were cool and compassionate. What he saw before him, grieved him to his soul, and his heart ached for her condition. If it were in his power, he would gladly banish her pain, her suffering, and hurt and replace it with sheer joy and happiness. But she would not even bend to his will. She would only bend to Arthur's. What he saw before him was a lonely and injured woman, too early burdened with the harshness of the world. It was because of jealousy and blind hatred that she was this way. If she had not so envied her cousin and despised any good that came Guinevere's way, she would have been a better person, one without enmity and bitterness. **

**He took a step forward, but he saw her body stiffen, and so he refrained from moving closer. He waited for her greeting, the salutation that was expected from a wife to her returning husband, but she remained silent. Could she not even manage, for the sake of being a well bred lady and queen, greet him? Surely she was not that affected by her own hatred. Could she not even rise above her own malice to display the proper forms of etiquette? But still she remained speechless. For a moment he was tempted to chastise her, to ask her why she did him dishonor, but he restrained his desire, fearing that if he did, she would resent him further for demonstrating his power over her. And so Lancelot humbled himself in an attempt to break down the barrier and soften the tension. Although irritation was building within him, he acknowledged his duty as a knight and a gentleman, and he bent his knee to her. Taking her hand and brushing it to his lips, he spoke, "Queen of Lanascol, I bid you good day. I hope you find yourself in good health, and may God bless you with it until the end of your days."**

**Elaine didn't even bat an eyelash. Boldly she confiscated her hand from his grasp and rudely took her seat before he had even risen from his knees. She saw the annoyance flame in his eyes and she smiled wickedly. Slowly Lancelot rose to his feet, and he towered over her, his shadow falling across her face, blocking the sunlight. No words rose to his lips, his mind was blank of all thought. But he need not speak, for Elaine finally chose to do so. Her voice was cold, seeming unafraid, "Well, well, Lancelot, you have returned. And how is the High King, these days? What about his all beautiful witch of a wife?"**

**Fire danced dangerously in his eyes and his cheeks flamed, but Elaine didn't flinch, instead she laughed at him, although inwardly she was cowering in fear. _Go ahead, strike me,_ she thought with venom, _and then you won't be as upright as you are made up to be! _Her eyes even asked him to commit the unspeakable deed, but the thought did not even cross his mind. Instead he sighed heavily, rubbing a weary hand across his face. Carefully he pulled a chair next to his wife, took a moment to still himself, and spoke gently and softly. "Elaine, I have done nothing to deserve your anger. I have done you honor by marrying you and letting you rule over my kingdom in my absence. You are the queen of a great province, and you bear me wonderful sons. Your position is coveted among women all over Less and Great Britain. Surely here is cause for anything but hatred and bitterness. Why do you resent me so?"**

**Again she laughed in his face, her eyes never discoursing from his gaze. She spat at him, "You know full well why I despise you so. I hate you because you lust after one woman but marry another! You who are declared to be the knight with untainted honor, a man with a soul unblemished, a legend living among us, are no better than a common peasant! Why? Because, you love a woman you can never have. And worse still, she is your King's wife!"**

"**That is enough, Elaine! You have no right to speak to me in such a way. You know nothing of my life or my situation."**

**Her malicious laughter filled the room, but this time she rose from her chair so that her face loomed above him, seeming to taunt him with her animal like eyes. "Do I not? Remember that I lived with Guinevere, sharing her secrets and remembering them well. Many a time she confided to me of her untamable love for you and how you returned it. She told me of those moments she spent alone with you, where it took all the strength you had to keep yourself from dishonoring the King! Remember that it was your desire for Guinevere that lured you into my trap. Had you not possessed such passion for a woman that was not your own, you would not be married to me."**

"**I know it well. That was long ago, and I have forgiven you for it, for my soul would have found no rest had I not. I received what I deserved, and you would not believe me if I told you that my sin grieves me until this day. It is the cross I carry and bear unquestioningly. Do you think it is in my power not to love Guinevere? No, I do not deny my love for her, for I would be committing a falsehood. The King has forgiven me for it long ago, and if you truly love and admire Arthur as much as you say you do, then you too would forgive me, for by harboring your hatred against me, you do him dishonor."**

**Her cheeks flamed, and tears of anger sprung to her eyes. His arrow had struck its mark. Balling her hands into fists, she struck him hard on the chest. Tears poured forth from her eyes, marring her once beautiful face that was now contorted in pain. "Oh, you are cruel! What have I done to deserve this? How dare you say such things against me? Oh, God, it isn't fair! You don't even love me and you love that, that…That hoar!"**

**At this Lancelot stood, grabbed her fists and wrapped his arms around her, restraining her, although she still struggled. He was angered by her disrespect towards her cousin and her Queen, and again he was tempted to reprimand her, but he remembered Arthur's words: _by treating your enemy kindly, you will heap burning coals atop their heads. They will remember words spoken with civility and forgot those spoken in anger. _Suddenly his soul was filled with compassion. She still continued to scream relentlessly, and she servants in the halls crept into the outer room, listening to her rants. "If you cared anything about me, you would not be gone so long! Never have you displayed any love for me! All I have received is your precious honor! Oh, how I tire of hearing it! It means nothing to me! I do no deserve such treatment. I am your wife but you treat me as a commoner!" Her anger had now subsided to violent weeping, and she no longer struggled but collapsed helplessly in his strong arms that held her up. Realizing that she was subject to his authority, she tried desperately to shove him away, but her attempt was weak and it didn't even budge him.**

**He still held her fast against his chest and let her weep. Finally he set her down in her chair, her figure slumped and quaking with sobs. Lancelot's throat had become thick, and he cleared it before speaking, his voice steady, revealing no anger but pity. "Elaine, I grieve for you. You feel you are mistreated, but a blind man could see that you are not. Your envy and hatred for your cousin has blinded you to all happiness, and until you put them away, will you find repose. You have many blessings, Elaine, could you but see them. If you could put the past behind you, you would be a happier person. You are wrong when you say that I don't love you, for I do. It may not be the love that you desire, but it is there just the same. Do not pretend that you are mistreated for you are anything but. I am sorry for upsetting you." With a curt nod, he walked deliberately out of the room, his eyes filled with sadness and his face grim.**

**The words of Lancelot went straight to Elaine's soul, and once again, she wept.**

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**Lancelot walked down the corridor slowly, his stride even and long; his face cool but hard, revealing no emotion. His eyes that were once bright with intensity were now dimmed with sorrow. His wife would forever be a thorn in his side, and a pain every time he breathed. He felt overwhelming sadness and pity for her, and he, being the noble soul that he was, yearned to take away her bitterness and unhappiness. But, alas, this he could not do for her. He could do her kindness, pay her respect, and even offer her security, but his deeds would never affect her, for she had shut her heart to him. He could talk until he was blue in the face and act until he was faint, but these things would never change nor influence her. Every night, in the privacy of his own room, on his knees, he would pray fervently that her heart might be touched by the love of God and that the Father would take away her hostility and replace it with His pure love; but it seemed his prayers were in vain. If God did hear his prayers, he chose to not answer them. But Lancelot knew that God's timing was not his own; and therefore he waited patiently, knowing that when God was ready, or if it was His will, a miracle would occur. This he believed with his whole heart and he awoke every day with the hope in his soul. **

**The King of Lanascol entered the sword training yard and discreetly slipped into a corner to watch the exercise. At the center of the court, his eldest son, Galahad, was practicing with the sword. Lancelot watched as the five year old skillfully wielded the sword, swinging it with ease, his sword arm already strong and limber. In a few swift movements that were well advanced for a boy such his age, he ended the match by placing his blade to his instructor's throat. Lancelot applauded, moving from the corner and making his presence known. **

**Immediately Galahad's head snapped around and his fierce blue eyes bore into the king's soul, stirring the feelings of guilt that were long ago burried. They stood thus for a few moments, their eyes locked and their bodies rigid. Finally Lancelot strode forward, knelt before his son so that they were eye level, and spoke gently, "Well done, my son. You have learned much in my absence. Soon you will be ready to return with me to Camelot where you will fight with the best swordsmen in all Britain."**

**Galahad did not respond and his eyes did not discourse. His gaze remained steady and his lips were pinched tightly together. He battled with his will. _I hate him,_ he thought bitterly, the burning feeling rising within him. _He is never home and he makes mother cry. He is more devoted to a woman that he can't have than to his mother. What makes him think that I would want to go with him to Camelot?_ But truthfully, the idea enticed him: the opportunity to go to Camelot and train with the best swordsmen, even the High King, was a blessing. Even a fool would know the significance of such a blessing.**

**The gentle, searching eyes of the king compelled the young boy to reply. Without even speaking, Lancelot beseeched his son to respond, and Galahad found that his will was not strong enough to resist the power that his father possessed. "It would be an honor. I am grateful for the opportunity."**

**With that Galahad turned jerkily and ran from the practice yard, tears brimming in his eyes. Lancelot was left alone, still kneeling, his head was bowed and his face was pain stricken. Subtly the training master also took his leave, embarrassed for the king. Slowly, Lancelot stood, his fists clenched at his sides, and he breathed a deep sigh that seemed to come from his very soul. "May God forgive me for my sins." **

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**Galahad lay with his head buried in his mother's lap. He wept bitterly, although Elaine's eyes remained dry. She would not let her son see her cry. "Why is he back?" cried the boy. "Has it already been three seasons? Why does he return? It only makes you sad."**

"**Oh, my dear boy, he returns to keep a lifeless promise that he made long ago. If he had it his way, he would never return and leave us here, alone, and isolated from the rest of the world."**

"**And what keeps him from having his way? He is a king and a man. Does he not have power?"**

"**My dear, son, Lancelot is bound by his honor." Her gaze hardened. "His precious honor that means nothing."**

**Galahad looked up into his mother's face. "Mother," he began, pressing his palm to her cheek, "I vow that when I come of age, I shall slay the man you call my father. If this deed will make you happy, then you merely have to ask of it, and I will carry it out."**

**The idea flashed across her mind. She entertained the thought, giving into her fantasy, but reality gripped her and she suddenly seized her son in a fierce embrace. "Oh, no darling, don't even think about doing such a thing." _O, Lancelot will die, but it will not be by your hands. You must not even begin to think or do anything that will tarnish the reputation you will need to accomplish the prophecy you are to fulfill. I will take care of Lancelot._**


	3. The Darkness Made Known

**Chapter II**

_**The Darkness Made Known**_

**It all began many years ago. Guinevere's mother had died in child-birth and when she was about seven, her father began to feel his death approaching. So he sent his one and only daughter to his wife's sister, the Lady Alyse, and she kindly took the young girl in. Guinevere was warmly received and she became fast friends with her cousin, Elaine. It was the next year that Guinevere's father passed in peace. **

**The two girls did everything together, wherever the one went, the other would have to follow; but it seemed that no matter what they did, Guinevere always out-shone her cousin. Of course Alyse, being the normal doting mother, insisted that Elaine was truly the outstanding one, but anyone could see otherwise. But when they were young, neither recognized competition, they merely understood that they had acquired a new play-mate and they were content. However, Elaine was extremely femanine, desiring to stay indoors with the women, doing sewing and the like. But Guinevere adored the out doors and desired to be close to nature. She was often seen riding her mare, Zephyr, (who had been bred in the High King's own stables by the chief horse breeder: Lancelot) that her uncle, King Pellinor, had given her.**

**Guinevere grew to be a beautiful young woman. Even at the young age of thirteen she was recognized. Elaine grew to realize that she seemed to be living in the shadow of her older cousin, and she began to harbor resentment. The first seeds of discord between them began to grow in the jealousy of Elaine, and thus began the deterioration of their relationship. **

**It was during those darker days that Elaine threw herself into fits of weeping. Guinevere was over-wrought, wishing that she were ugly if only to restore her dear cousin's happiness. And so Guinevere began to ride less often and took to staying indoors, keeping silent most of the time and only speaking when spoken to. This seemed to abate Elaine's anger for a time and she appeared happy.**

**It was around this time that the High King Uther fell extremely ill and the disease that held him showed no signs of ebbing. The Saxons began to mass and they attacked, seeking to strike when the kingdom was vulnerable to gain an advantage. There was a great war and many were killed, both innocent and knight, and the loss was heavy for the Britons. Merlin then told the King that the victory would be his if he took the field, for merely his presence would restore his men's will to fight. And so the High King Uther did as he was advised, but it was rumored that he was so ill that he had to be carried into battle on a litter. How could a dying King defend the kingdom of Britain? Surely all was lost.**

**But against all odds, the Britons triumphed, the Saxons were driven back into the lands of the North, and the land was finally quiet. But it was not long after the battle that the hand of death gripped the High King, and the physicians said that it would be a matter of simply a few days before his death. Therefore a council was held, within the the King's very bed-chamber, to decide the fate of Britain. It was there, on that fated morning, that Uther announced that he had a son of his body and that he was the rightful heir. The boy was only fifteen, his name was Arthur, and he was conceived by Queen Igraine, before Uther had legally married her.**

**Arthur had been living as a foster child to a lord named Sir Ector. At this time Arthur had no knowledge that he was anything more than a bastard, taken in by the kind-hearted lord. He was serving as a page for his foster brother, Kay, and he was tutored by a hermit who kept the chapel in the woods. The hermit called himself Myrddin.**

**Uther publically declared that Arthur was his one and only heir. He was a bastard, it was true, but the kingdom needed an successor, and although Arthur was not legitimate, Uther acknowledged him was the rightful King of Britain and the High King gave the boy his blessing. With these last words, Uther breathed his last.**

**The kingdom was thrown into turmoil. The knights, lords, and kings of Britain were not so eager to put their trust and saftey into the hands of a beardless boy, and worse still, a bastard. There was talk of usurping the boy, saying that he had no more claim to the throne than a peasant. And King Lot, (the future husband of Morgause, Arthur's half-sister) was enraged, for he was secretly plotting for the throne. **

**Christmas was approaching and the situation had yet to be resolved. Arthur still lived in ignorance of his true heritage and Merlyn did not seem anxious to reveal it. Again the Saxons massed, seeing the discord among the Britons. The arguement of who should ascend the throne grew so great that there was a threat of civil war, but Merlyn gathered the men together. It was on Christmas Eve that all the neighboring prominent knights and lords gathered within the greatest chapel in London; and there Merlyn beseeched the men to pray for the divine intervention of God. For only a miracle could produce a remedy. **

**And then it happened. After prayers, the company turned to leave, and there, in the middle of the church yard was a great stone, and atop the stone was an anvil in which a naked sword stood fixed. There was an audible gasp as the torch light caught the great rubies and gems that were inlaid in the hilt of the magnificent weapon, and the light reflected onto the awe-struck faces of the men. On the hilt of the blade the words were engraved: Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil, is rightwise King born of all the Britons. **

**And so there was a great clamor, as every man yearned to attempt to draw the sword out, but amidst the mayhem, Merlyn's voice rang out. "Be still!" The wizard surveyed the faces of the men, his eyes cold with scrutiny, before continuing. "He is not among you that shall achieve this feat. The hilt was made for his hand only, and only the one, chosen by God may draw this miracle forth. So let it come to pass that there shall be a tournament on New Years Day, so that knights, lords, and kings from all across the land may come and try their hand at the sword, and among them is the Once and Future King." **

**And so New Years Day arrived and men from all over the country came to compete in the tournaments and among them were Sir Ector, Kay, and Arthur. When it came time for competitions with the sword, Arthur realized that he had left Kay's sword at the lodge and so the boy made haste to retrieve it. Quickly Arthur ran to the lodge only to find that everyone was attending the tournament and so the inn was locked. In despair, Arthur glanced around for help and it was then his eyes caught at a sword standing in the middle of the neighboring church yard. Striding into the clearing and towards the weapon with conviction, the boy stated, "My brother shall not be without a sword this day. Kay will not be shamed because of my error. " And without pondering his action, he gripped the hilt, pulled it fiercely, and the sword slid out of the stone. In that moment of haste, Arthur did not stop to realize that the hilt conformed perfectly to his hand and that the sword seemed to hum to life once in his grasp. The ringing he heard in his ears was not from his own intense urgency but from the blade that sung at being finally in its master's grip. Running, he returned to his brother and quickly pressed the hilt into his brother's hand for it was that very moment that Kay was to compete.**

**As soon as Kay took the sword a great burning pain went through his arm, he let out a yell, and he instantly dropped the sword where it fell, hissing in the snow. All eyes were upon Kay because of his sudden outburst, and Kay, looking down in astonishment, realized that the blade which he had held was not his own. An audible murmur arose as all in the crowd recognized the sacred sword that had once been standing in the stone. Sir Ector immediately turned to Arthur and asked him urgently, "Where did you get this sword, boy?"**

**Arthur instantly assumed that he had done something wrong, and, prepared for a reprimand, he bowed his head and confessed, "I found it standing in a stone in the middle of the church yard. If I was wrong to draw it out, Sir, I sincerely apologize and will do well to replace it to its rightful position." He then picked up the sword quickly, eager to correct his mistake, and he made his way back to the church yard. The mesmerized crowd followed him.**

**Upon entering the church yard, Arthur ran to the stone and swiftly slid it back in, ignoring the sudden feeling of loss that tugged at his heart. Heaving a sigh he turned around, and he found the crowd of people behind him, all staring in amazement. Suddenly Merlyn emerged from the crowd, his staff held firmly in his hand and his long black robes making him appear elegant. He placed his knarled hand upon the young, firm shoulder of the boy and squeezed it lightly. "Myrddin," began Arthur in surprise, "what are you doing here?" The boy furrowed his brow, trying desperately to understand. Something serious was happening and it all seemed to find its root at the sword. What was so special about this weapon? The crowd continued to stare at him, and Arthur became excedingly embarassed and uncomfortable at his obvious ignorance and confusion. **

**Gently Sir Ector took the boy by the arm and knelt before him. "Arthur," he began, "do you know what you have just done?"**

**The boy shook his head humbly. While Ector proceeded to explain to Arthur just what it was that the boy had accomplished, there was another uproar as eager knights desired to prove themselves more worthy to pull the sword out of the stone than a young, ignorant boy. King Lot of Orkney pushed his way through the men, and arms crossed over his chest he bosted, "I will do it. I am the rightful King of Britain and more capable than any boy could ever be!" Boldly he strode towards the sword, but once standing next to it, he hesitated. His face turned white, as if suddenly intimidated and frigthened by the great weapon before him. Embarassed he cleared his throat, rubbed his hands together, and gingerly placed his hands on the hilt. The sound of Lot's outcry of pain and shock echoed through the church yard. King Lot was blowing on his hands that were red and scarred where they once had gripped the hilt of the great sword. Lot glared at Merlyn. "Desist from your magic, old wizard."**

**Arthur glanced quickly to the man he had called Myrddin. _A wizard? _Merlyn simply smiled, amused. "If there is magic present, Sir, I assure you it is not my own but the power of the God."**

**Lot harrumphed embarassedly and melted into the crowd. "Is there anyone else that dares to try?" asked Merlyn, his voice booming in the small clearing.**

**There was utter silence, but it was quickly followed with shouts of "Where's the beardless boy?" And "Yes, let the boy try!"**

**Arthur emerged from the crowd, his form seeming small and lanky. He now understood what was occuring, that the future of Britain was going to be determined within the next few moments, and despite himself, he trembled. His great eyes looked up into the wise face of his mentor who he now recognized as Merlyn, the great Enchanter. "I shall try it, Merlyn, if you wish it."**

**The wizard smiled kindly. "My boy, this sword was made for your hand. Claim what you were born for."**

**Arthur timidly approached the sword, the great ruby winking at him tauntingly, as a beast ready to strike.**

**In the crowd Lot laughed loudly. Merlyn silenced him by merely glancing his way.**

**It was standing before the great sword that Arthur received a revelation. A hundred visions flashed across his mind at the speed of light. He saw a beautiful woman with golden hair in the arms of a man with a hawk on his tunic; he felt a vague overwhelming sorrow that seemed to tear him to pieces from the inside out; he saw a battle field, littered with dying, groaning men, the ground crimson with blood, and the sky filled with hundreds of vultures; a beautiful enchantress that stood next to his most trusted mentor, Merlyn; the dead body of a young man with dark hair and chiseled features of his father; a golden city; and a hand holding a sword out of the lake. Arthur seized the hilt of the sword, there was a flash of lightning that illuminated the sky, and the sword slid sweetly out of the rock, as if it were pulled from a scabbard. Suddenly the church yard was filled with light, and all the men shielded their eyes with their hands. Falling to their knees, they paid their homage to the newly revealed King, readily swearing their alligience to him.**


	4. Preparations

**Elaine became enamored with the tales of Arthur. She was blindly obsessed and never ceased from speaking of him. Guinevere tolerated her cousin's rambling because she wished their rlationship to remian well. She was glad that her cousin was happy, and willingly endured Elaine's idle talk of Arthur if only to postpone their suddenly peaceful relationship.**

**But Arthur did seem to be something of a "legend living among men." He had won a battles against the feared Saxons at fifteen, was crowned High King of Britain by Merlyn the Enchancter himself, and had established the much desired peace between Britain and the Saxons, all before his twentieth birthday. A year had passed in complete peace, and he was now building a new kingdom that they were calling Camelot or "the golden city." He was finally ready to settle down, and so he began his search for a wife. **

**Elaine was extatic. She was determained to be his queen. She talked of nothing else and her mother merely smiled knowingly. Guinevere, however, had no intention of competing for his hand for she was merely an unknown orphan. Howevere she was perfectly contented with her stance for she only wished to ride her horse and do as she pleased. She was in no hurry to marry, and dreaded the day that she would be so wretchedly bound. **

**Elaine had never been happier, her face glowed, her eyes danced, and her spirit soared. The whole castle was alive because the lady Elaine was in a good humor. But then the hand of fate intervened. Arthur had found favor with a young orphan girl who was descended from the great Roman emporer, Maximus. That girl was Guinevere.**

**Elaine threw herself into tantrums and wild fits of screaming that would make any grown, battle-scarred warrior tremble. She vowed that she would never forgive Guinevere for taking her only love from her. "You have never wanted me to be happy," she screamed. "Never! You simply cannot stand when one person is more happy than you! I wish you were never born! I will never forgive you. You have taken my only love from me. I wish you were dead!" Elaine shut herself in her room, not eating, saying that nothing was left for her and she would rather starve to death.**

**Guinevere was beside herself. She did not want to marry Arthur, in fact she now hated him for he was the cause for the state Elaine was in. _Oh, if only I hadn't been born, _Guinevere thought, day after day. She tried to speak with Elaine and reason with her, but Elaine had hardened her heart and would not listen.**

**Her nursemaid, Ailsa, tried to assure Guinevere that Elaine was just suffering from her first broken heart and that she would eventually recover, but Gwen was doubtful. "No, I believe she may pretend to, but deep within her heart she will always resent me for it."**

**Finally, a week later, Elaine emerged from her room, her figure thin, her face wan and hollow, her eyes dim with sorrow. She refused all food, saying she would eat nothing until she had spoken with Guinevere. **

**Steeling herself, Guinevere went to face her cousin, but what followed was not what she had expected. Elaine threw herself at her cousin's feet and begged her forgiveness, saying that she had no right to act that way, but that her heart had been broken. She stated that it had finally mended and that she was ready to stand by her side and help her no matter what came. But Guinevere was skeptical, knowing that a broken heart could not mend that quickly. Elaine was not truly sorry, nor was her heart truly mended, she was planning something.**

**But the days passed in peace, although Elaine seldom smiled and Guinevere smiled even less. However the excitement of Guinevere marrying the High King brought the castle alive with energy. All winter they worked on finery to present to the King as dowry. Never have fingers moved swifter or more skillfully as those that prepared the dowry for the High King Arthur.**

**Still, Guinevere was yet to be happy. She spoke less often, the light left her eyes and was replaced with meekness, and her once joyful spirit was dampened with apprehension and fear. Elaine, although insisting she had put it behind her, was still in foul spirits because the King had chosen her cousin over herself. It was because of her unpredictable temper that the servants tread lightly around her and scurried about to meet her every whim. **

**When Guinevere would complain to Ailsa, saying that she feared this man she was to marry, Elaine would become irritated; grabbing her cousin by the arms, and shaking her fiercely, she would fall into a lecture. "Oh Gwen, do try to be happy. I would do anything in this whole world, even dying, if it meant I could be in your place! King Arthur chose you out of hundreds of fair maids. You should be honored, but no! You sit there sulking," she finished, arms crossed over her chest, her face dark.**

**At this Guinevere would simply force a smile and apologize, taking her cousin's hands and squeezing them lightly. "I know it well, and if it were within my power I would gladly change places with you. I have no desire to leave home and marry a man I know nothing of. But I promise, for the sake of honor and propriety, that I will be a lady and bear this task gracefully."**

**Elaine's demeanor suddenly changed to that of gentleness. "But you shall not have to bear it alone. Mother told me that I might stay with you after the wedding. That is if you permit it."**

**Sincere relief flooded Guinevere's features as she quickly lunged into Elaine's arms. "Oh, my heart has nearly fainted with joy and relief at your words. Of course you shall be welcomed to stay! I will have it no other way." Then lowering her voice and her eyes filling with tears she said, "The road does not appear so lonely now. I don't know what I would do without you."**

**The winter was over, and spring was fast approaching. It was the night before the High King Arthur would arrive, and Guinevere lay in her bed, trembling and pondering the possibilities of that meeting. Would Arthur be kind and welcoming, understanding the fears of a young girl to be married to a stranger? Or would he be the merciless warrior that was as hardened and as battle-scarred as the dreaded magical sword he carried? **

**Regardless what kind of man he presented himself to be, Guinevere already possessed in her mind how she was going to be: a lady; revealing nothing; betraying nothing but outward beauty, poise, and grace. She would be warm, welcoming, and charming, and most of all intelligent and educated. Her mannerisms would only act as proof of her good up-bringing, and therefore her behavior would reflect well upon her guardians, her family. Hopefully, in this way, Elaine's jealousy and bitterness would be appeased and Queen Alyses's feelings of indignation, towards her orphaned niece being chosen over her daugther, would be quieted. Guinevere would be the picture of loveliness, a bride fitting and beyond worthy for the High King.**

**Suddenly her determination took the place of her fear, and her trembling stilled. She had been prepared and trained for this moment her whole life. Ever since her arrival at Gwynedd all those years ago as a little girl, her Aunt Alyse made quite sure that she was educated in every aspect a bride should possess: singing, dancing, weaving, embroidary, charm, modesty, flawless manners, and a reasonable education (reading writing, and some history). **

**And the path she would tread would not be lonely for Elaine, her dearst friend, would be there to comfort and support her. With these last thoughts, Guinevere breathed a sigh of relief as she felt her troubles fly away, and mouthing a silent prayer, she drifted to sleep.**


	5. The Fated Morning

**It was that fated morning. The morning that Guinevere would meet the High King Arthur. The castle was alive and it seemed the very walls trembled in anticipation of the arrival of a legend. Elaine wrung her hands and flew about the castle, ordering servants, making sure that everything was taken care of, and being a general nuisance. Guinevere had the rare opportunity to see her Aunt Alyse's usually calm demeanor crumble and take the form of panic. **

**Guinevere, however seemed to be the only one who had managed to maintain her wits. After last night and the creation of her new determination and courage, she found an inner peace. But yet, that morning when dawn peeked out from behind the hills and she rose from her bed, she felt an unsettling forboding. Fear reached out its icy hand and gripped her shoulder, warning her that something undesired but uncontrollable was about to occur. There seemed to be a dark clowd hovering in the distance, making ready to devour her. Something that would forever be remembered and spoken of was going to happen that very day, and there was nothing that she could do to prevent it.**

**The morning wore on and the arrival of the High King drew near. Guinevere was sent to her room to prepare for the long awaited meeting, and Elaine accompanied her, chattering all the way, her incessant mutterings senseless and meaningless. **

**As Guinevere sat, her nurse-maid Ailsa combing out her hair, Elaine paced furiously, her face intense and dark. "Ailsa," she was saying, "has everything been prepared? Has the evening meal been planned, the guest chambers freshened and made ready to perfection, the courtyards cleaned, the-"**

"**You needn't worry about a thing, my dear. Your mother has seen to it that everything is spotless and without imperfection. To doubt it is to reflect badly upon her honor."**

**Elaine merely glared at the impudent nurse, and Guinevere smiled, amused at Elaine's indignance. "Why don't you sit, Elaine? You must be wearing yourself out by all that pacing, and you must look your best for when the King arrives."**

**This statement made the young girl stop in her steps and immediately she sunk down onto a chair, straightening her dress and smoothing her hair. "I know, it's just that I am so nervous! Aren't you?"**

**Guinevere paused, contemplating whether or not she should humor her cousin by saying yes, or speak the truth by saying no. "No," she said simply and with conviction. "I made up my mind last night of how I was going to present myself and nothing can prevent me now. He is merely a man and I intend not to be frightened of him."**

**Elaine looked as though she would burst a blood vessel. "Merely a man!" she began hotly, but Ailsa sent her a fierce glance that silenced her. Amazingly Elaine shut her mouth, crossed her arms over her chest and turned away, saying nothing.**

**Sensing her pain, Guinevere instantly rose from her chair, rushed to her cousin, and placed her hands on her shoulders. "Oh, dearest, do not be saddened." But it was too late, and the tears had spilt over. Gently Guinevere pulled Elaine into her embrace and whispered softly in her ear, "I know you pray every night that through some miracle, you could marry Arthur. Believe me that I too wish for a way that I could honorably withdraw and be freed from this bond I did not desire in the first place. Let me say, once more, that had I the power within my grasp, I would change places with you in an instant if only to grant your heart's desire."**

**Elaine turned and stared openly at her cousin with deep affection. "Oh, Gwen, you are so kind and understanding. How can you stand to think of others in a time such as this? Why, if I were in your place I would only be capable of thinking of myself." Whiping her tears and straigtening her spine she whispered with as much courage as she could muster, "I believe you are worthy of him. You will be a great queen."**

**Guinevere's eyes filled with tears for Elaine had just bestowed her blessing, or as close to one as she was able. Once again hugging her dear friend close, Guinevere wept and Elaine made no move to resist but blatently returned her affection. After a few moments, and Guinevere had calmed herself, she pulled away from her cousin and crossed the room. "I believe I should like to take a walk. I now find my nerves on edge and so desire to calm them so that I will be presentable. I shan't be long." **

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Guienevere burst into the open air and breathed deeply. The cool, clean air cleared her head and refreshed her. In the distance the rolling, lush green hills stretched before, welcoming her and accepting her as she was: a girl, an orphan, alone but unafraid, and fully ready for the journey laid out before her. She regarded those beautiful hills and seriously contemplated running towards them and losing herself in their vast beauty, embracing, perhaps for the last time, her youth and childhood. After this day, she would no longer be a girl, free to do as she wished, but a woman, bound to a stranger she had never met, and tethered to a fate she never desired. **

**She was, perhaps, the only girl in the whole of Britain that did not desire to marry the High King. Was she therefore instable because she did not desire this? Everyone certainly regarded her as so when she was not thrilled at her betrothal. Was it wrong of her to feel this way? Oh, she knew it was an honor beyond dreams for someone of her stance, and she recognized it as a great opportunity. Why then was she reluctant and unhappy?**

**Every girl dreams of love, a vast consuming, over-powering, passionate, and uncontrollable love; spontaneous, unexpected, and desired above everything else. This is what Guinevere longed for, but by being betrothed to the High King, she would never be granted her hearts desire, and she would never fall in love. This is why she was unhappy. She was only fifteen and she never had the chance to taste her blessed youth or her first love.**

**She wandered farther from the castle, un-aware that the sun had moved in the sky and it was near midafternoon. She heard the sound of running water and was drawn to it. Rounding a bend she found a small brook in the shade of gigantic trees wich shaded it pleasantly. Realizing that she was thirsty, Guinevere knelt, cupped her hands, and drank from the stream. The water refreshed her and quenched her thirst, driving away her darker thoughts produced from brooding, and her intense expression faded away, revealing a pleasant but resolute demeanor. _I have put it behind me,_ thought Guinevere,_ I have accepted my fate and I will carry out my duty as a princess, but most importantly as a lady. I am ready for this task before me and I will betray nothing of doubt, hesitance, or fear. I have already decided how I will behave and I will carry out my promise to myself and fulfill the expectations of all Britain._**

**She stood, smoothed the wrinkles from her simple dress, patted her hair, turned around, and froze. There, about fifty paces before her stood a tall man. His appearance certainly conveyed that he was knight. His tunic was blue and white, and on his badge was a hawk with outstrecthed wings and grasping talons. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and despite herself, Guinevere's heart lept within her and her pulse accelerated.**

**Her hair blowing in the wind and her cheeks were glowing from the walk. She was the most amazingly stunning woman he ever had the honor to see. She stood staring at him, her eyes boring into his soul, never discoursing, and captivating him until he felt drawn to her. Without realizing it, he had walked over to her and knelt before her, his head bowed, and his heart hammering in his ears. Trembling and fighting to maintain his composure he began to speak, and his voice did not break the spell, it only heightened it. "Oh, fair maid, have you come from heaven as an angel to make this place more beautiful, or are you flesh and blood?"**

**Guinevere blushed deeply and smiled, flattered and moved beyond speech. At her silence, the knight dared to glance up and from the embarrassed expresion on her face, he realized what he had done. "Oh, pray forgive me, my lady; it was not my intention to be so forward. I am a knight from foriegn lands and this emblem is the crest of my homeland. I am from Lanascol of Less Britian, and my name is Lancelot."**

**The name stirred something within Guinevere's soul and it struck a chord of familiarity within her mind. She had heard his name before. His nearness made her quiver with a desire she had never known before and she swallowed hard. "Rise, Sir Lancelot, you need not kneel to me, although your good manners reflect well upon your honor. Welcome to Gwynedd. My name is Guinevere. What is it that you seek?"**

**Suddenly the light left Lancelot's face and his body stiffened. Clearing his throat, he began, "My lady, my search is complete if you are Guinevere of Northgallis."**

"**I am who you seek. Pray, what might I do for you?"**

**Offering his arm and raising his chin Lancelot answered with purpose, "I have come to take you to the High King Arthur."**

**Guinevere went suddenly still as she felt all her dreams come crashing down and any attraction once felt for this man before her suddenly vanished for reality had intervened. "Of course," she managed. "I thank you and I apologize for making you come after me. I did not realize how late it had grown."**

"**You needn't apologize for it was no burden but a pleasure."**

**Exiting from the clearing, Guinevere saw another knight, waiting patiently beneath the shade of a tree. "Allow me to introduce you to my fellow companion and right hand. Guinevere of Northgallis, this is Sir Bedwyr of Brydwell."**

**Guinevere extended her hand, Bewyr accepted it, and kissed it gently. "It is a great honor to finally meet you. I have heard nothing but tales of your beauty and goodness. Now that I meet you, I realize the tales have done little to truly justify you. You are beyond words."**

"**I thank you sincerely, Sir Bedwyr. Am I to understand you are a poet?"**

**Lancelot laughed softly. "He can charm the very sun from shining if he wishes it."**

"**I too am pleased to meet you, Sir Bedwyr. I have heard of your loyalty to the King and your unending talents."**

**Bedwyr bowed humbly, then continued. "I dislike to end this meeting when it seems it has just begun, but I fear we have lingered too long already. The celebrations will begin soon."**

**Lancelot offered his arm, Guinevere accepted it carefully, and the three of them made their way back to the palace. **


	6. A New Enemy

**Thus Guinevere met Lancelot and so begins the renowned tale of two of the most beloved figures in history. As it so happens, Guinevere was not to meet Arthur immediately, as he had been detained by the Saxons. Hence Lancelot's presence. The High King had sent his most trusted companion in his stead, and this perhaps was his greatest error. But more often then naught, people agree that there were powers at work that mere humans could not prevent even if they desired to. **

**It seemed that this was certainly not the most difficult mission the legendary knight had been sent to undertake, but it would definately prove to be his hardest and most life-impacting. As simple as it sounded, it would change the course of his life forever. **

**Despite Lancelot's love for honor and Guinevere's grief at the circumstance, neither of them could prevent the inevitable and what was written in the stars long before either of them were born: they fell into a deep, passionate, and tormenting love. Neither of them consciously desired it, but one can be sure that they craved for it in the darkest places of their minds. For proprieties sake they attempted to avoid each other; but for the sake of being young and burning for a consuming passion that neither had ever tasted, they sub-consciously nursed it along. They lived in the moments when they were in each other's company, and they yearned for the mere seconds they would steal to simply touch one another: whether it be a formal kiss on the hand, her arm resting daintilly atop his when he would escort her anywhere, or the occasional touch of her gentle hand on his arm to catch his attention. **

**At night Guinevere would painfully confide in Elaine, spilling her heart before her, hoping that her dear cousin would help her shoulder her burden. "I can't love him, Elain! It just isn't plausible but its almost as if it is beyond my power. The more I fight it, the stronger my feelings for him become."**

**Elaine could hear the tears in her cousin's voice and she held her closer. "Ah, Gwen, sometimes we cannot prevent or control the ones we fall in love with. You will never forget your love for Lancelot, for no one can ever banish the memory of their first love."**

"**But why did it have to be him?" Guinevere complained. It was the first time since they were young that Elaine had heard anything but lady-like words leave her cousin's lips. "Of all the poeple in the entire world, why him, the man that will be at my side, everday, for the rest of my life!"**

**Guinevere continued to lament, but she never shed any tears and she saved her grief for the darkest nights, in the privacy of her own room. Her love remained a secret from everyone, save Elaine, and she carried it willingly, accepting it as a punishment for the passions of her heart.**

**Although Guinevere and Lancelot were only granted a week to become acquainted with one another, they still came to recognize each other's presence. It was the day before they were to leave for Camelot and Lancelot had went in search of Guinevere to inform her. He went to the weaving room where he found Elaine. Upon seeing his entry, Elaine hastily stood, smoothed her dress and hair, and quickly approached him, laying her hand playfully on his for-arm, squeezing it as she did so. "Sir Lancelot," she began breathily, "to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" She pressed closer to him and the hem of her dress brushed across his boot, and his body stiffined. **

**Not meeting her gaze and pulling away from her, he replied matter-of-factly, "I am searching for the Lady Guinevere. Could you be so kind as to inform me of her whereabouts?"**

**Elaine's face fell and her eyes turned dark, but as soon as Lancelot turned to read her stare, her face became the picture of loveliness and innocence. She answered smoothly, "I apologize, Sir Lancelot, but I do not know where she is. She left early this morning to go on a walk. You might want to search the moors. She likes to wander amidst the hills."**

**Lancelot's eyes bored into her soul, seeking to verify her answer through her face, but her countenance was carefully and masterfully guarded and he could read nothing. He glanced about the room and noted that not only was Elaine's loom threaded but also another that sat close to hers. He knew it was Guinevere's, and he could smell her scent in the room. Straining his ears, he heard light foot-falls and a soft humming in the garden, but being the gentleman and keeping the Lady Elaine's honor untainted, he merely bowed and left the room. **

**Once he was gone, Elaine furiously kicked over a nerby loom and watched as one of the ancient legs cracked off. _It's disgusting and blantantly dishonorable. How do they dare do such a thing! Guinevere is given the whole world to her on a silver platter and she openly refuses it for some vagabond knight that could never be half the man that the High King is!_**

**It was at that moment that Guinevere entered the room from the garden, a bunch of flowers in her hand as well as some in her hair. She was humming to herself softly and an angelic smile was displayed upon her face, and anyone who knew her well enough could almost be certain of what she was thinking. Suddenly her smile vanished and her humming stopped abruptly. Glancing frantically about the room, she dropped her flowers un-knowingly, but upon seeing Elaine, she hastily retrieved her flowers and composed her countenance. Her stare said all that she refrained from asking. The young girl knew that he had been there.**

**Guinevere stormed furiously down the hall as her held back tears finally spilt over in sweet release. _I can't love him! It will ruin everything! _Tripping clumsilly because of her blurred vision, Guinevere made it to her chamber where she shut the door and locked it securely. Her chest heaving. _I can not do this. I will not shame my household and my family. Arthur deserves more than this, and he certainly deserves more than me._**

**Exhausted from the days of carrying her secret and the pent up emotion that had built within her, the princess collapsed upon her bed and fell into a deep sleep, her face stained with tears, and her expression was that of unrest.**

**So absorbed in her thoughts, Guinevere did not even notice that someone had stealthily opened her chamber door and entered her room, but the sound of the door closing alerted her. She closed her eyes quickly and pretended to be asleep. Although she could not see, her ears and senses told her things her eyes never could: the footfalls were light so she guessed the intruder to be a woman but the presence that entered the room was threatening and unsettling.**

**Very carefully, Guinevere opened her eyes. Her head was bent so that the intruder could not see her opened eyes, but Guinevere could see who the person was.**

**She held her handkerchief in her hands, twisted tightly so that it resembled a rope and she held it taught as she leaned over to place it around her cousin's neck. **

**Guinevere, reclosed her eyes and moved as if in sleep, moaning softly as if restless or unsettled by a dream. This action caused Elaine to quickly lower her hands and place the twisted handkerchief behind her back. Guinevere, her back now to Elaine, opened her eyes and sat up, and placing a hand to her forehead she turned to Elaine. Prompted relief flashed in her eyes as she quickly clutched her cousin's hands and lied, "Oh, Elaine, I am so glad you are here. I was having the most terrible dream." And what Elaine had planned to do to her own kin was a nightmare. Guinevere shivered violently at the thought; her flesh crawling at even being in the same room with her once beloved cousin. But surely Elaine was not capable of murder. Her powerful emotions were only fueled with hurt and jealousy. She could not be truly so wicked as to actually kill her own cousin, just because she thought that by murdering Guinevere, Arthur would have to marry her instead. _It was only her strong emotions that drew her to my room, _Guinevere reasoned with herself. _No harm came of it. She couldn_'_t be capable of murder. _"But the spell is broken and I see that I was silly to be afraid."**

**Elaine's demeanor suddenly changed, the hardness melted from her face and she eagerly sat upon the bed, squeezing her cousin's hands painfully. "You see," she began sweetly, her face revealing nothing, but her eyes revealing her irritance, "I knew something was wrong. That was why I came. Was the dream about Arthur?"**

**Guinevere eyed her cousin and thought for a moment. Then carefully she began, "No, it was about you." Elaine's expression remained the same: cool and placid. "I dreamed that you became so jealous of me that you..." Guinevere paused to look at Elaine, but the girl would not meet her eyes. "You tried to murder me."**

**Suddenly Elaine became animated. "Oh, Gwen, what an awful dream! That is truly a nightmare. It is merely your anxieties about the departure tomorrow that are affecting you. You must be terribly nervous." She had changed the subject.**

**Guinevere played her game. "Oh, yes very. I have no idea what I will say to Arthur and I am afraid that when I curtsy I might fall. I might say too much or I might say too little..."**

**Elaine placed her hand on her cousin's shoulder and squeezed it hard, making Guinevere wince slightly. "I will be with you, Gwen. Just turn around, and I will be there." But her words were not comforting, and the tone in which they were stated suggested it was meant as a threat.**

**Guinevere was wary, unsure of how to respond, but because she felt that the situation could grow unpleasant should she object, she merely held back her emotion and let sense lead her. With her lips trembling and a growing pain in her heart, she answered, "Thank you."**

**They stared at one another. Guinevere was scrutinizing Elaine's gaze; it was as open and unguarded as a fortress without knights, and what she found there was unsettling. She was afraid, angry, and extremely frustrated and irritated, but powerfully determined to have her way. This was no longer the Elaine that Guinevere had once known as a little girl. The new woman that she found before her was ruthless, hard, and bitter. **

**Elaine too was attempting to read her cousin's stare, but she could see nothing. Guinevere had mastered the art of hiding her emotions physically. Her features and demeanor would betray nothing and her eyes could seal off the door to her soul. But then suddenly, Elaine saw something in her eyes, but it was only a glimmer. Through her stare Guinevere communicated that she knew what Elaine had attempted to do. **

**And then a strange thing happened: Elaine suddenly felt a distinct authority sieze her soul. She felt as if she were being held captive by her cousin's powerful stare. The feeling grew stronger and she began to ascertain a certain emotion that was beginning to build, and it was almost not of her own will, but derrived from Guinevere's eyes. The feeling was guilt. It throbbed painfully in her chest and she found that she no longer could breathe. Tears sprang to her eyes as she began to tremble with fear. What was this power that her cousin could wield over her? She was utterly helpless and could do nothing to flee from it. The longer she looked into her eyes, the more Elaine found herself wanting to confess and beg forgiveness. The words were forming in her throat.**

**Finally Guinevere discoursed her eyes, and Elaine fell to the bed, heaving in gasps of air, all feelings of guilt fading away, but genuine fear was still present. Not daring to look into her cousin's eyes again, Elaine stood from the bed and ran from the room, slamming the door in her haste. **

**Guinevere still sat, motionless as a statue, but the flood-gates had been opened. Without warning the tears spilled over without relent and she was swept away in her torrent of grief once again. Her cousin, her blood, her kin was going to murder her, and would have succeeded had she not moved when she did. **

**The pain that Guinevere felt within her heart was more than she had ever born before, not even when her father had passed or when she discovered her love for Lancelot. Elaine, her only friend, the person closest to her, the one who she had shared all of her secrets, all of her dreams with, was willing to destroy her in order to further her own ends.**

**But somehow, amidst her tears and pain, Guinevere found the strength to subdue her tears and hold onto reason. A cool calm washed over her and she whiped away her tears, and her features hardened with resolution. So this was the way it was going to be from now on. Guinevere knew the feelings that were in Elaine's heart, and she now understood the lengths at which Elaine was willing to go to achieve her wants. Thence forward Guinevere would no longer be able to treat her cousin in the way in which she had practiced previously. She now had to tread warily and guard the feelings that were in her heart, no longer confiding with her once trusted friend. **

**Circumstances would be forever changed. Although this was not of Guinevere's will, she relented to it with conviction. She could have become bitter and angry at the world for treating her in such a way but she was a true lady; and even though her heart ached with anger and sadness, she grasped her feelings of mercy and forgivness and forced them forward, already forgiving her best friend for any action that she did or would do against her. Elaine had clearly displayed that any love she had once possessed for her cousin was gone; or it was quite possible that in her jealousy of Guinevere, she had simply forgotten, her emotions of envy being stronger than her feelings of love.**

**The path ahead would be a lonely one, a road without a companion to lean on for support. She would have to bear her burdens alone and without the comfort or help of a friend. Of course Elaine would still be permitted to stay on after the wedding. It would be cruel and unfair of Guinevere to dismiss her without being capable of offering a suitable explanation for her action. Once at Camelot and within the High King's protection, Elaine would not dare harm her. **


	7. Birth of a Legend

The days passed in a whirl wind, and everything happened so quickly that Guinevere could barely comprehend it all. The morning of her departure she was wakened early, before the sun had risen, and she was immediately dressed in traveling clothing. She was given a piece of bread to break her fast, and she was then ushered down stairs where a company was awaiting her. Formalities were exchanged between herself and Lancelot, but she was so nervous she barely noticed his warm lips that kissed her hand. He saw the discomfort in her eyes and gave her hand a squeeze. She smiled gratefully at him, and he helped her into the litter.

Guinevere had wanted to ride into Camelot upon her own steed, but Queen Alyse would not hear of it. "What?" she had cried. "And shock everyone, therefore ruining your first impression and my reputation? Most certainly not. You will ride in a litter, and you may have a private one if you wish, but I will not have you gallopping into Camelot on a horse like some ill-bred country girl!"

Guinevere had wanted to protest, saying that if she rode on a horse the people would be able to see her better, and besides she would not be _gallopping_. She would be walking. But nevertheless, she yielded to her aunt, wishing to please her and not wanting to add uneeded stress on the journey.

On this morning, Guinevere was surprised to find herself appreciating the litter, fearing that if she were to ride upon a horse, the shaking of her legs might give her away. And so the journey began, King Pellinor, Bedwyr, and Lancelot led the way, followed by Guinevere's litter and Elaine and Alyse's. Behind them thundered one-hundred calvary men, hand picked by Lancelot himself, and two flag men brought up the rear: one carrying the flag of Wales, the other the banner of Pendragon.

All day they traveled, and Guinevere spoke very little. She used the time to organize her thoughts and survey the country she never had the privelege of seeing.

Each night they stopped and set up tents, and by the time the sun had set, there was a crowd that had come to pay homage to their soon to be queen. And so Guinevere sat every night, flanked by Lancelot and Bedwyr, receiving the people and giving her thanks until she was exhausted. But even then, she would not sleep, not until she had received everyone that had waited to see her. Tales of her generosity, beauty, and gracious nature swept the kingdom, although she never heard them herself. It was whispered every where that if ever there was someone worthy of the High King Arthur, she was the one.

Finally after days of traveling, they arrived at Camelot, and it truly was a golden city, for its clean walls sparkled in the sunlight, and the crystal waters gave it an etheral quality. _It looks like the kingdom of heaven, _Guinevere thought. They had stopped at the top of a hill to survey the city, and as she sat there, breathless and stunned, Lancelot sidled next to her and whispered into her ear, "Welcome to your home, Princess Guinevere, the place where dreams come true."

Chapter 3

_The Birth of a Legend_

And so begins the tale that has been passed on for generation after generation. Guinevere entered Camelot to a thunderous applause, and from the day she entered the city until the day she left it, the people loved and adored her. She was their queen, their beloved lady, and to them she was the epitome of everything they had sought to build and represent.

A week after her arrival at Camelot, Guinevere was wed to the High King Arthur. The ceremony was luxorious and lavish, as was to be expected, but no amount of expectation could have prepared her for the over-whelming experience.

Guinevere's gown was made of the purest white silk that had been imported from India. It was inlaid with hunderds and hundreds of diamonds and pearls so that when the light caught the many effervescent articles, she dazzled, appearing a heavenly apparition. Her entrance into the cathedral was fitting of a fairy tale, and the man standing at the alter was truly a knight in shining armor. He was a legend and it was only fitting that this legend living among men should have a bride that was also a legend in her own right.

Of course Guinevere was anxious, as any young bride would be, but Lancelot was always there, assuring her of the greatness of the man she was to marry, saying that he was the most gracious, merciful, and loving soul he knew. They were perfect for one another. But it did not matter how much comfort the young knight issued for Guinevere's fears were only quieted when she took the hand of her husband to be, felt the warmth of human flesh beneath her palm, and met his calm and gentle gaze. In the depths of his eyes, Guinevere found the completion to her soul, the missing piece that she had been searching for, and the love she knew was already hers.

The feasting lasted all day, beginning with a breakfast after the wedding, dinner after Guinevere's formal coronation, and supper to further celebrate the long awaited matrimony of the King to his bride. There was much toasting and things only became bawdier and bawdier as the night progressed. But tongues were stilled and spirits calmed as the bard emerged from the dark corner he had been hiding in and began to sing. His tenor voice rang through the air, clear, melodious, and beautiful.

He wove a beautiful tale, decorating it with colorful illustrations and depictions that were so vivid, one could merely close one's eyes to see the picture. He told the stories of the ancient Brits, of the days of Brutus, descendant of Aeneas who was one of the sole survivors of the legendary Trojan War. Then he sang of the Roman Emporer Maximus and so on down the line until finally Arthur. He sang of how Britain's glory would be justified and fulfilled through the glorious reign of Arthur. He was the light of Britain and without him, the country would be left in darkness. Because of the High King, there was now the much desired peace between Saxon and Briton, and the sleeping babes in their cradles could dream in safety. When the tale was over, there was not a dry eye in the hall, including Lancelot, who dabbed at his eyes unashamedly.

They feasted late on into the night and at length, Arthur turned to Guinevere, caught up her hand, kissed it lovingly, and said, "My dearest Guinevere, you have been such an angel. You have made this day a taste of heaven on earth. It has grown late, and things are only going to become rougher. If you wish it, you may retire."

"Thank you, my lord Arther. I shall await your call." She stood hastily, and rounding up her women, she fled from the room. Upon entering her chamber she collapsed in a chair and Elaine shooed the waiting women out of her room. Once alone, Guinevere let down her shield and the tears came tumbling forth. "Oh, I can't do it, Elaine! I just can't. Arthur is a wonderful man and I am very fond of him, but I am not ready for this yet. I am only fifteen!"

"Oh, Gwen!" cried Elaine, falling into her cousins arms.

Just then Alyse entered the room, Guinevere's nightdress slung over her arm. "Girls," she began sternly, "stop this nonsense. We haven't much time for from the sounds of it, the celebrations are beginning to wane and the High King will be here momentarily."

Guinevere stiffened and she attempted to gather her courage about her, but suddenly all of the blood left her face and she collapsed into the chair once again.

Alyse's face softened and she approached her niece and did something the young Queen would never forget for the rest of her days: Alyse knelt in front of her on her own accord. "Guinevere," she began taking her hand, "I know what you were feeling, for I can assure you that I felt all the same anxieties you are experiencing now. It is a scary thing for a girl your age, but I tell you truly that it is not as terrifying as you are anticipating. He does not seem to be an unlikeable man, and I am almost positive that you will grow to love him. He is a gentlemen and I would lie if I were to say that he was not attractive."

Guinevere's face brightened somewhat and she stood, her countenance steady. Squeezing her aunt's hands in affection she replied, "Thank you, Aunt. Your words mean more to me than you know."

Eliane and Alyse helped Guinevere out of her clothes and into her nightdress and all seemed to be well. But the Queen sighed and turned away quickly, walking to one side of the room and then furiously back. "But what am I to do?" she asked in exasperation, the fear once again creeping into her voice.

"Just simply get in his bed," continued Alyse. "He will know what to do when he finds you there." And with this last comment and a squeeze of Elaine's hand, Guinevere was pushed through the curtain that divided her chamber from the High King's.

His room was sparsely furnished, but a welcoming fire burned brightly in the hearth. A skin of wine hung warming above it and to the right was a great bed, fitted in the wedding sheets that Guinevere, Alyse, Elaine, and the women from Gwynedd had worked so hard to perfect. Remembering her purpose for being there, the young Queen slowly approached the bed and climbed into it warily. Nothing happened. She was expecting something to occur, but the room remained the same and the spell was broken.

She waited. She waited for what seemed like hours, but no amount of time would laden her eyes for her nerves were on edge and her adrenaline refused to subside. Suddenly, she heard voices in the receiving chamber that was directly below her. She strained her ears and although she could not identify who the voices belonged to, she was almost certain it was Arthur and Lancelot.

The low pitched voices were comforting in a way that Guinevere had never known before and unknowingly, she let down her shield. She continued to listen, and even though she could not hear their council, she found the sound of their voices in fellowship easing, and as she listened, she finally fell asleep. And thus Arthur found her when he opened the door and the sight made his breath catch in his throat.

There before him on the great bed lay an angel that appeared to have fallen from heaven. Her breathing was light which indicated to him that she was merely dozing, and her lips were slightly parted. Her right arm lay casually across her waist while the other was clutching a necklace that lay at the hollow of her throat. He watched her chest rise and fall, and he felt his pulse quicken. He cleared his throat, hoping the action would rouse her, but she merely stirred in her sleep and moaned softly. Kneeling down next to the bed, he tentatively reached out a hand, laid it upon her arm, and spoke softly, "Guinevere."

At his touch and the sound of his voice she was instantly awake and she sat up quickly, clutching the covers to her chest, her eyes suddenly wide with fear. Seeing her reaction, his gaze softened and he felt his heart go out to her as he slowly stood and took a step away from his bed. "I did not mean to alarm you and I apologize for disturbing you." The sound of his voice hung in the air and merely the tonality of it made her relax.

Guinevere was confused. His presence was soothing and not intimidating as she thought it would be in such a situation and without realizing it, she losened her hold on the sheets that she was clutching, and it fell, revealing the nightdress that had been specially prepared for this very occasion. What was she to say? For once in her life, Guinevere was at a loss of words, for this powerful man before her had snatched away all of the lessons she had ever learned with his simple stare. She was embarassed and her color began to rise. Looking away quickly, she clinched her eyes shut, willing her heart to still and for her brain to function clearly. But as soon as she had found her resolve it evaded her grasp for she felt the bed collapse as the King lowered himself down upon it. His action made her head whip around quickly and she felt her stomach lurch as she realized how near they were to each other. A small mound of covers separated her hand from his and she swallowed hard. She did not meet his gaze, for fear of what she might find there or of what he might find in hers. Staring blankly at the bed covers, she remained silent and a tremor went through her body without permission.

Arthur sat next to her, his warm eyes surveying the woman before him. In truth, she was a young girl, alone and very afraid. A wave of pitty passed over him and he smiled gently. He took her small and delicate hand into his right and covered it with his left. "Guinevere, let us speak freely, for it is something I desire, most especially between husband and wife. Let us always be open and honest with one another, as we are now bound to each other by law and before God. I know this is a frightening thing for a young girl, and I am not sure how much you are told about this sort of thing, but I wish to tell you that it truly is something that should not require courage."

She was totally and completely caught unawares by his words. Was he supposed to be saying such things to her? How was he able to see into her heart and find the right words to quiet it? What was this strange power he wielded over her? Slowly she felt her wits returning to her and the words that had fled from her grasp returned to her and made themselves known. "My lord Arthur, I assure you that I am willing and ready to serve you in any way you command. I do not wish to bring dishonor upon my house-hold or yours. I know where my duty lies."

"I believe that. Guinevere, you reveal your soul in your eyes, and your honesty is one of your best attributes. I wish to tell you, Guinevere, that you have no need to fear me. I believe that this act should be an act of love, and if you are not ready, I understand completely. You will know when the time is right. I confess that it does seem strange, because we have only known each other for a short while, but I am no barbarian and will most certainly not force you to do something you feel you are not ready to. I will respect your decision, whatever it may be."

And just as surely as the words had found her, they left her once again and all she could do was sit there, her mouth slightly dropped in amazement, awe and relief shining in her eyes. But as she continued to stare at him, she became mesmerized. He was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. He had auburn hair and deep brown eyes that seemed to swallow up every fear and anxiety she was feeling or ever felt. In his presence she finally felt safe, comfortable, and loved. His hands were large and brown and she could see his hardened chest through his thin shirt. He was muscular and tan from the long days of sword practice and drilling of the troops in the sun. Finally she breathed a sigh and with it the words, "Oh, my lord Arthur, how have you managed to see into my very soul, which I thought was hidden from everyone, save myself?"

"As I told you before, your soul is in your eyes, but I do believe that you keep your gaze guarded carefully whenever you are in public. I want you to know, Guinevere, that you will never have to guard yourself, emotionally or physically, from me. Never feel like you have to hide something from me, for fear of evoking my temper. I am not an unreasonable man, Gwen, and you will soon learn that you need not fear me, in any respect."

And she believed him with all her heart. He was truly not that much older than herself. He was but ten years older and that was nothing compared to girls who were wed to men more than thirty years older than themselves. He was a young man, sensitive, loving, but hardened by five years of continuous fighting and life as a soldier and a leader. As she did not reply, he continued. "We are equals, Guinevere. You are not below me and I am not above you. I want you to be my friend, my companion, and in time, my lover. Together we shall build a city that will not crumble, that will live on long after we are dead, but more importantly, one that will represent chivalry, honor, and all that is good. As I am a man, I cannot accomplish this myself. I will need your help."

She found her voice. "Me, sire? But what can I possible do?"

"You have already done a great deal, merely by entering this place and taking me as your husband. To the people you are the hope of security and normalacy. You represent the qualities that I myself cannot procure: elegance, beauty, grace, modesty, and a regal presence."

"But, my lord King, forgive me, but I am merely fifteen and have just arrived into this city. How have I managed to accomplish all that you have said in so short a while?"

"It is a gift you possess, Guinevere; I believe you were born with it. If ever someone was born to be Queen, you were, Gwen. And please, call me Arthur. As of now I am your mate and friend. Now that I have met you and had the pleasure of being in your company, I believe that we were meant to be."

She was overwhelmed. In the space of a half hour, Arthur had made her feel like they had known each other and had been married for years. Without even pondering her action, she grasped up his strong hand in hers and planted a kiss on his palm. He closed his eyes and a sigh escaped from his throat. He pressed that same palm to her cheek and caressed her lips with his thumb gently, and a soft shiver went through her body at his touch. And for the first time since that morning, Arthur leant over and kissed his wife.


	8. Barren

Arthur and Guinevere fell in love instantly, and Guinevere found that, in a strange way, Arthur's presence actually helped her bear her feelings for Lancelot. As time passed she began to feel more at home in her surroundings, and eventually Guinevere looked forward to arising each morning so that she could complete the tasks that awaited her.

As promised, Elaine stayed at Camelot, but she spoke seldom to Guinevere. After Guinevere had married Arthur, it seemed that her relationships with everyone around her were immediately altered. The women distanced themselves, the men were delighted to serve her every need, and all treated her with respect but in a careful way.

Lancelot spoke to her less often than Elaine, and when asked to do something for her he seemed neither happy nor displeased. Instead he carried out all of his actions in a sort indifferent manner, and when he was forced to speak to her he spoke with civility but without warmth. The only time they touched was to give formal courtesty, and even then his manner was so cold that many thought that he greatly disliked the new queen.

Arthur saw all of this, and despite the way Guinevere and Lancelot acted toward one another, he knew. It was written on their faces the day they came to Camelot together, and since that moment it had been breaking his heart. What was meant to be his had already been taken from him, before he had even rightfully possessed it. And yet he bore this burden without complaint and he kept it to himself, burrying it away deep within his soul so that no one could see, not even Guinevere.

The months roled by and Guinevere was happy and content with her new life. But just like a sunny day, the bliss did not last forever. The King and Queen had been married for some months now and still there was no news of an heir. The kingdom waited anxiously, and the people of the palace watched the Queen religiously to see any change in behaviour or perhaps slight illness, but she remained constant and her health was excellent.

Guinevere slowly came to relize that there was being more expected of her in addition to just being their soveriegn; and the day she over-heard her waiting women gossiping about the fact that she hadn't conceived, she cursed herself for being so nieve. She was married to the High King. Of course she was supposed to produce an heir! But as the months continued to pass and her figure remained slim, she came to realize that something was wrong.

"It's just not natural," she heard one of her women say one day. There was a small group of them sewing in the garden and Guinvere had tired of it and had decided to take a turn about the flowers. As she drew near to their small circle she heard them speaking in hushed tones.

"I agree," replied a young girl. "My elder sister, Rebecca, was married not too long ago, and she conceived a month after their union."

"And my daughter conceived three months after their marriage."

"When my aunt," began the girl, "had been married to my Uncle for a year and still had not become with child, the doctor pronounced that she was barren. So my Uncle put her away."

She heard the women muttering beneath their breath, and then a timid voice asked, "Do you think the High King intends to do the same?"

There was silence. No one dared replied, and Guinevere, unable to hear any more, rushed from the garden. Upon entering the library she began to pace furiously, first wringing her hands and then burrying her face in them. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she muttered over and over again. "How could I have been so stupid!" She suddenly stopped, a new thought occuring to her. "How do they dare discuss such things?" But nevertheless the words of her waiting woman crept into her head. _Do you think the High King intends to do the same?_ "Oh, God!"

The room had begun to spin around her. _He wouldn't do it, would he? He loves me...but what if there is no heir? What will he do? What will become of me? _ Darkness was swallowing her, and she swooned. She heard her name being called and then felt two strong arms catch her just before she hit the floor. "Gwen, Gwen," the voice said. "Look at me. Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

But the Queen had no need to open her eyes. She knew whose voice it was, and a part of her wanted to keep her eyes shut, savoring the moment as he held her in his warm embrace; but she forced her eyes open and gazed into the soft grey ones of Lancelot. "My lady, are you quite well? Is there anything I can get you?"

"I...I think I need to lie down."

His face was filled with concern and he was looking at her with the softest stare she had seen in his eyes since she had arrived at Camelot. His heart was in his eyes and Guinevere saw compassion, concern, and deep feelings of love. For a few brief moments she returned his gaze with equal feelings of affection, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her. For the space of a few heart-beats Guinevere forgot where and who she was, and she was dying to rise up to meet his kiss, but suddenly Arthur's face appeared in her head, and she reached up a hand and pressed it on Lancelot's chest. "No, Lancelot. We don't want to do this."

She watched his face fall, and when he spoke again, all the warmth had left his voice. "Can you stand, my lady, or shall I retrieve assistance?"

Irritated at his reaction she pushed him away, and although still not completely recovered she stood and she blatantly refused his arm that he offered to help her. "I am fine."

She watched the battle rage across his face. He was torn. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he knew his place as her subject, and, more importanty, he recognized that she belonged to another. "Very well. I merely came to inform you that Arthur requests your presence in his chamber." And with a curt bow he left the room.

Guinevere clutched a nearby chair for support. Her knees felt weak and with great effort she stumbled out into the garden where she approached one of her waiting women and said that she was ill and that she needed to rest.

The Queen was in bed the rest of the afternoon and she sent a message to the King, apologizing for her absence


End file.
